


A pinch of salt

by Monella



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bullying, Depression, High School AU, It will get better i hope, M/M, More will be added, Murder, Nervous breakdowns, New teachers, Pre-Slash, Rumours, Self-Loathing, Slow Build, Stigma against mental health problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monella/pseuds/Monella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You should take everything people say here with a pinch of salt.”</p><p>Highschool AU where Hannibal is the (slightly) creepy new home economics teacher who may or may not be a serial killer and cannibal, Will is the slightly better looking version of a crazy cat woman (only with dogs) who’s recently gone back to work after his nervous breakdown and Principle Jack Crawford is still trying to work out how this became his life.</p><p>And that’s before you add the real adult drama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Books on the floor

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a prompt on dreamwidth.
> 
> I hope this okay, I've never written anything like this before- I think later chapters will probably be much better than this one. I'm not very good at the first chapter thing :)

The school was large, filled to the brim with the rushing of students and overflowing with the apparently never ending stream of noises. There was no stillness, no part that did not seem untouched by the maddening rush youth could contain, everyone having something urgent to tell someone else. 

Still, it was just as he remembered, nothing seemingly having changed. The walls were the same cold white, the floor (black) was barely visible between the rushing feet and the lockers were the same lifeless silver as though the last bit of cleaning they had encountered was the accidental brushing of clothing against them. Every little moment from entering seemed vital to the colourful masses of teenagers, none of them willing to slow down, none of them listening to anything but the sounds of their own echoing voices. 

In the corner of his eye (at the very edge of his peripheral vision) he could see someone’s books slamming into and spreading on the ground with the first burst of silence he had noticed yet. A moment of stillness as the girl remained frozen, looking at them through masses of straight brown hair, unable to even look up at the three jocks laughing as they walked away. 

Papers fluttered like shards of glass onto the ground around the girl, heavy in their lightness and some falling fast enough that they seemed weighed down by something. 

Forming a new carpet at her feet the white pages mockingly looked up at her, seeming all the cleaner under the intensity of the lights. The effect didn’t seem to last, shoes already moving over the corners of some and the middles of others as the crowd took no notice, too busy with their own little lives to take any interest in those running parallel to them. It was those attitudes that were more likely to follow them into adulthood rather than any positive ones.

But like anything else in the place she did not remain frozen for long, someone bashing into her and causing her to stumble forwards and back into movement. She moved slower than the others as she knelt to pick the books back up, eyes downcast and probably unfocused, careful that she didn’t misaim her fingers- it would be easy enough for anyone to accidentally step on them if she didn’t pay attention. Her lips parted, letting out a painfully long sigh before muttering to herself something that he read as ‘oh joy’. Another painfully slow moment slipped past before he moved, his own long fingers picking up one of the books that had been accidentally kicked out of her way, looking over the title with as much disinterest as he could manage. 

When she noticed him holding it out to her though, he was reminded of yet another reason why he really hadn’t missed the place. 

“Mr Graham! I didn’t know you were coming back.” Her voice was light, almost bubbly as she smiled, gratefully taking the book from his outstretched hand. The moment it was gone his hand dropped again, resting near his body as though he was completely avoiding any form of contact there was. If it had been possible he would have likely avoided anyone even acknowledging his existence yet he had bills to pay and teaching was something he could cope with... most of the time anyway. 

Will’s eyes moved over the other books Abigail had been picking up, knowing he’d been teaching her long enough that she’d take no offence at his inability to maintain any form of eye contact. He was autistic, not stupid, he was well aware how every single person who’d walked past him so far had carefully avoided bumping into him as though he was made of glass. His first day back and the label of ‘mad freak’ was back stronger than ever. Not that he could blame them, they were right, but it was still frustrating. So as he spoke his voice was perfectly level. “Well, I was going to return sooner or later.” Again, the more sarcastic part of his mind snapped at him congratulations for coming across like some form ice-human. “You should hurry; you wouldn’t want to be late for your first lesson of the day.”

Saying nothing else he stepped away from her, noting how her lips had curved as though seeing that he was very much himself again was a good thing. Then again, she had always been an odd girl so questioning it too much would likely not be the best idea. 

Three months. He’d been off work for three months due to the Incident (capitalized even in his head) and coming back made him feel like he was suddenly back at the very edge of his sanity, remembering all too well how badly things had gotten when he had last been there. 

Resisting the urge to run his fingers through his hair Will settled for focusing on the little details of his surroundings, counting exactly how many steps he had taken and trying to predict how many more until he could finally slip into his classroom. At least there it was his territory, it was a space he could understand and that he couldn’t be cornered in. The closest to a safe space he had left and God only knew how he suddenly needed to feel as though he had some form of control left in his miserable little life. 

It didn’t take a genius to realise the silence that followed him around as he passed masses of student was not one of respect and the whispers that followed were not on an unrelated matter. At least if there was one good thing about how he was, Will could genuinely say that as long as he could just silently disappear home to his dogs at the end of the day it didn’t matter much to him. 

He’d never set himself up for disappointment with the hope he’d ever escape the labels his very personality drew up. 

There were no such things as secrets in high school even for the teachers, everyone was well aware of that. 

Lips pressed into an easy thin line he pressed his hand to the door of his classroom, ignoring the burst of pain the action triggered. Will had barely resisted the urge to wash his hands for what was probably the hundredth time that morning, well aware that scrubbing the skin off his hands was not the best way to prove to everyone he was indeed sane enough to go back to work. Then again, perhaps if he did keep scrubbing at the reddening skin he might wash himself and the label of crazy away.

(Accepting a label and liking it were two very different things. A bit like sanity and insanity, often easy to mistake for each other, confusing even the one living them.)

The door opened with barely more than a squeak and he slipped in as soundlessly as any human could manage, glad that the still off lights proved he was the first one there. Letting the door shut behind him he only paused briefly to flicker the light on before wondering to his desk, eyes moving over the newly rearranged tables. Shaped in a several bunches of four by who had taken over when he was gone it was evident the students would be used to doing group work by such a point. That also meant it was very likely Alana Bloom who had taken over his classes, which was somewhat of a relief seeing that she would at least know how to give the necessary information. It could have been a lot worse. 

With barely more than a refrained sigh he put his bag onto his desk and he set to putting the students’ desk back in the formation he preferred, knowing that when they were all put to face the front of the room there was no way to get away with not doing what they should. Will was good at noticing when students were angled wrong, angled to look at a bright little screen on their laps rather than the actually screen they should be looking at. 

At least his insanity was equivalent to his intelligence so that whilst he had absolutely no social life and no people skills, no idea how to be social in general, he was clever enough that an employer could know what he did say would be good information. 

That was okay, he tried to convince himself. People like him weren’t normal enough to get lonely; he’d never been able to let anyone close enough to miss them. It was simply some form of subconscious reaction to the stimuli of being back, it would soon pass. 

It would all be fine as long as he didn’t let his mask crack again. 

His breakdown had been humiliating and whilst lingering on the details would never do him any good, all Will had to do was get back in step with the repetitive school year, all he had to do was make sure that any emotions that wanted to bubble past the surface only have came out when he was alone. Trusting someone had been how he had gotten himself into this mess in the first place. 

Trusting was stupid when everyone was willing to betray you in a heartbeat to get a story sold. 

The desk was heavier than he remembered, Will grateful he was there early enough to actually get everything done before his class started unhappily pouring into the room from the door, ready to get annoyed the moment they saw that he was indeed back. Perhaps he’d even put them in alphabetical order just to ensure they would hate him a little more. It would certainly make him feel better for the briefest of moments. 

Momentary satisfaction. That was okay if only once in a while. 

He made a slight disgusted noise as his fingers traced over a piece of gum under the next desk he moved, grateful he’d remembered to pack his hand sanitizer and annoyed he hadn’t brought bleach too. So much for not getting obsessive over little details again- he’d long since stopped looking at eyes because he found them distracting, he couldn’t let hands start affecting him too. 

(At least everyone knew better than every making contact with him. Handshakes were as out of line as someone intentionally touching his arm. It was his choice, it was what he wanted.)

It was as the final desk was shoved to where he wanted it that the first students came in, in the form of Abigail and the dark haired girl she always seemed attached to. Will instantly had to remember how alike her mother said friend looked- he remembered her from one of the few who had a major issue with him coming back to work so soon after all that had happened. 

Instead of saying anything he returned to the front of the classroom, standing rather than sitting as he waited for more to join them. As boredom increased he resigned himself to listening to the all too loud conversations starting by those who were there. 

“No, seriously though, you haven’t seen him Abby. The new one is literally a killer.” The girl’s voice was a pitch higher than what Will would ever consider anything but grating, fake enthusiasm falling from her overly painted lips. 

“Figuratively.” Will’s voice was dry, cutting through the silent room like a knife would warm butter. When the girls turned to look at him he didn’t need to look at them for it to be clear it was their conversation he was adding to. “I’m certain Miss Hobbs would look far less taken aback if you stated figuratively. If you do, however, mean literally then perhaps it is a police officer you should be telling.”

The odd chuckle from those he assumed were going to pass their English exams to a higher level and Will silenced even that noise by simply standing up straight, getting ready as though putting on a performance worthy of an Oscar. Perhaps it was though. It did often feel as though he had long since started to act out some form of horrific part in a tragedy that he simply could not get away from.

“Alright, as you can tell I am indeed back rather than locked up with other insane individuals as your facebooks are covered in ‘sources’ that say I am.” He gave them a dry curve of his lips that looked more like annoyance than anything. “And as per usual my rules to this room apply. If I see a phone it will come stay with me on the desk up here, if you then get a text I may even read it out loud…”

Letting the words keep going in their usual uninterested manner Will resisted the urge to focus too much on the odd moving lips, not needing to be a good lip-reader to know exactly what was being said. 

 

_And the freak is back._

-

-

-

Rumour was something that thrived in any enclosed environment, especially when there was even the slightest bit of truth to it. It was, as such, always best to take whatever you heard with a pinch of salt in the matters of ‘she said’s and ‘he said’s. 

Rumours about Will were certainly plentiful, everyone knew most of them including the parents. But still no matter how little truth there were in many of them they survived like some form of a virus. Will himself knew most of them from the few times he had frequented the teacher’s area, soon stopping completely because it was easier to just think of children saying the things that were repeated by older (wiser) lips. 

Lunch as such was not a time he ever did much in. He’d never been especially good at remembering to eat and it wasn’t as though even when he forgot to bring himself food into work he ever did anything about it. Leaving his classroom would mean having to face people and that was something he didn’t feel up to. He’d could talk at them because that was easy. Being around them outside of that simply made him feel completely uncomfortable. 

Putting the many textbooks in alphabetical order though? He could cope with that. Books had no interest in him and even if they had he knew almost every page to the point he’d know exactly the right thing to say to get them to leave him alone. 

As long as he knew what to expect there was only very little that would throw him off balance long enough for any form of a reaction to actually leave him. 

One of the things that was almost surprising enough to let him slipup came in the form of an older blonde man entering his classroom about half way through lunch, steps somehow even quieter than Will’s tended to be. 

Swallowing back the curious urge to turn around to get more of a look at the newcomer Will continued what he had been doing, curls slipping over his lowered face and glasses slipping a little lower on his nose as he put one of the more damaged copies between two that would keep it together. Unlike people the whole books would aid the broken one rather than breaking it further. 

The silence was only filled by the newcomer walking further into the room until he was leaning against Will’s desk, clearly having heard enough to know interrupting him or going into his personal space was never going to be a good idea. 

The bubble of non-penetrable-metaphorical-space around Will was there for a good reason and he was content to let it be. 

“I haven’t had the opportunity to meet you yet so I thought I’d come and introduce myself.” The man offered a smile so dangerously close to seeming honest that Will forced himself to look away, looking back at where he’d been focusing on rearranging the books rather than at the visitor. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” The man added and Will paused, probably not even realising how his shoulders had sunk slightly. 

Of course.

Had he really hoped the new teacher wouldn’t want to know if the rumours about the insane psychology teacher were true? They were only human and it wasn’t all that often there was someone as completely broken as he was wondering outside a mental institution. 

Making himself talk Will didn’t move a muscle, tone probably colder than intended. “We’ll make this quick, shall we? Yes, no, so the bosses think and yes.” 

To his surprise the man had the audacity to chuckle, tone showing how he was still smirking, hands resting against the desk he was leaning against and sharp eyes still purely on the younger man. “Do I get to ask to what you are replying? It seems as though you have me at a disadvantage here seeing that you know what I wish to ask before I do.”

Getting the distinct feeling he was being mocked Will’s teeth briefly moved over his bottom lip, using the brief discomfort to ground himself. “Yes I’m the one who had the breakdown. No I have not been put in a ‘loony bin’ as my students still incorrectly put it. Am I sane enough to teach again? So the bosses think but then again they gave me this job in the first place so maybe they need looking to and yes, I am autistic and still teaching. Those tend to be the most frequently asked questions these days so if you have anything more creative to ask me you are more than welcome to ask simply to spice up my life.”

The blonde man’s laugh was deep and short, surprise only slightly changing the tone. Not the response Will had seen coming but having not met the man before he had no idea how to read him correctly yet. “Actually I heard more along the lines of ‘young, brilliant and likes dogs’ but I guess that’s good to know too.” He tilted his head as if it would aid him in understanding Will with more ease. “My questions were going to be more along the lines of if you always spend your lunches not eating and working?” 

Just because his tone was amused didn’t mean it wasn’t honest, making even Will turn to see who on earth had wondered into his classroom. He didn’t recognise the man, a surprise seeing how small the area actually was. He tried not to over analyse the quality of his suit, dark blue tie standing out against the pure white shirt and his features were oddly pleasant looking whilst been very well guarded. Not a hair seemed out of place and he was certain that the other’s hands were probably as well maintained as the rest of him. 

“You must the new teacher that is already catching up with me on the rumour mills.” Will greeted briefly, giving a nod rather than anything else as he moved to look on a different shelf for the missing textbook. “And yes, I always spend my lunches not eating and working. Most have given up commenting on it.” He paused again. “What did you say you taught?”

It turned out the amusement hadn’t left the other’s tone in the slightest. “Home economics. I show my students how to cook and then sit back and watch the world burn.” Joking. It really had been a long time since anyone had bothered trying to joke with Will. “And yes, yes I am. My name has already caused half my students to believe I am a cannibalistic serial killer feeding my kills to them.” He rolled his eyes as though it was such a normal rumour to come across. 

“How would your name cause a rumour such as that one? It seems rather out of portion.” Will had already realised that he had absolutely no idea what the other teacher was actually called, unable to stop himself from asking the question that had genuinely struck up some form of curiosity. It was sad how much he’d missed being talked to as though he was just another normal (whole) human being. 

He immediately scolded himself for such a thought because there was no way it was going to last. Chances were the moment he gave the answers the other wanted he’d avoid Will just like almost everyone else did. 

A freak was no matter how much one could deny it, by definition, nothing like others. 

“Hannibal- kids have been playing rhyming games with it since I was a child and they never seem to come up with anything more interesting.” Hannibal said what seemed good naturedly, his own curiosity only growing as he watched the strange young man before him. “Hannibal Lecter if you wanted to know. And you are Graham I assume? I don’t believe I am aware of your first name if it’s not wrong to ask.”

Again Will had to pause, wondering if Hannibal was actually for real or if he’d missed his calling in dramatic arts. “Graham will do. Few call me anything else and what they do tend not to be in baby books.” Never letting the other quite out of sight he tried to get back to what he had been doing, hating whoever had disorganised his books with an increasing still hollow annoyance. 

Hannibal nodded, settling for not being given an answer yet. He had plenty of time to wonder back and try to get to know the strange man another time- especially seeing how he already doubted Will was the type to ever really leave his classroom. “Well, Graham, it’s good to have finally met you. If you do decide to eat you are always invited to come visit me in my oven of a classroom. I do always tend to forget I’m cooking for one and pack far more than I ever intend to eat.” Hannibal still denied there was anything wrong with being paranoid as to what exactly he did eat. “Plus interesting company is always welcome.”

Will gave an almost inaudible, dry chuckle before he could stop himself. “There are plenty of other teachers, Mr Lecter. I’m certain you’ll find someone else to keep you company.” Did he really look like such a stray that already the new teacher wanted to feed him to appease some form of misplaced guilt? Suddenly he realised how many of his dogs must have felt when he had first found them and tried to take them in. A moment later he reminded himself he wasn’t some stray dog desperate for a home, he was just a very messed up little human who needed just one good night sleep. 

“The offer remains if you change your mind.” Hannibal said simply, smile still strong as he pushed himself up, briefly tidying his still immaculate suit before stepping towards the door. “Oh, and it’s Doctor Lecter actually.” He told Will with a last flash of an amused smirk. “I’ll see you soon Mr Graham. Remember to take everything you hear of me with a pinch of salt.” Even if it meant having to wonder back himself to seek out the other he would see the other again. Without another word he slipped back out of the room.

Blinking back his confusion Will stared at the door, not quite certain yet if he’d remembered to take his medication. At least that would explain what on earth had just happened. 

Maybe it wasn’t going to be quite such a repetitive school year after all.


	2. Dried Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It must be lonely though, Abigail considered to herself, to be so utterly depended on getting things done that there was nothing else in his life. There was no ring on his finger, no pictures on his desk and from what she had heard his home was large but mostly empty, not even a pet wondering around with him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely feedback last chapter guys <3 hopefully you like this next part.   
> A word of warning though many of the pieces of imagery will come up in much later in the story (I predict about chapter eighteen maybe?) so it's always good to look for any underlying themes... :P

The light tie adorning his neck seemed to contrast with the whiteness of his shirt, somehow emphasising quite how confident his walk was when he narrowly avoided one of the passing individuals. Already there were plenty of rumours surrounding him, people struggling to understand him to the point that they had to make things up to justify the falterings in their logic. 

He was well tended to well past the point of necessity, hair never out of place and sharp eyes never seeming to not see what was going on around him. Like some form of a predator he already had a reputation for not accepting anything but the best, seemingly enjoying watching his students struggle as much as humanly possible as a bit of ‘character building’. Information about his past was as unknown as why on earth someone like him would ever choose to be a teacher. There seemed to be no set answer and the answers that had been proposed were… simply amusing. 

In the end there seemed to be three types of reasons that had been accepted as to why he was a teacher in such a small school: One, he was a serial killer on the run and he thought the police would never take the time to check all the little areas. Two, he was a serial killer looking for his next victims to find and cook. Or there was the third group who genuinely didn’t care as long as at some point they got to see him with less layers on. Unsurprisingly enough the people in that group tended to be the same praying Will would have another nervous breakdown so he’d sleep walk into school again. 

Abigail was one of very few who didn’t fall into either, finding Doctor Lecter (who oddly enough didn’t teach anything she’d ever thought a doctorate was necessary for) interesting in a different manner. He tended to slip between personas with ease, going from an easy and charming smile to emotionless with steel eyes within a second if he so wished. It was perhaps that one trait that had fed rumours as to what and who he really was- even she had to admit that there were plenty of things that didn’t make sense. But as she watched the man glance over the other teachers as though studying them as intently as he studied his food she had to admit he wasn’t the sort she would want to anger. 

Hannibal’s nails tapped on his elbow, impatience evident even though it never reached his face. He did not seem the sort who let his emotions damper what he chose to do. If boredom meant meeting an end target then there was very little doubt that he would go through with it with very little ease. 

It must be lonely though, Abigail considered to herself, to be so utterly depended on getting things done that there was nothing else in his life. There was no ring on his finger, no pictures on his desk and from what she had heard his home was large but mostly empty, not even a pet wondering around with him. At least Mr Graham never had a lack of company when he was at him small little house, everyone having heard of his collection of strays. Like had been said before, it was probably pure empathy with the unwanted creatures that kept Will taking them in with little hesitation. 

To be needed was, in a sense, to be wanted and it didn’t take much to see how very much Will wanted to be wanted if only just for once. His fluctuating sanity was both the derivative and the source of his loneliness. 

No such things seemed to counter in Hannibal’s choices. He was by no means seeming to struggle with socialising, he seemed to know exactly what others wanted to say even before they did and not once had he seemed surprised. Nothing slipped past his perfect mask and when it did it was only because he allowed it to. As though he was some form of a close parallel to Will: Will’s brief losses of control the reason so many stayed away without him ever meaning it fully and Hannibal’s perfect grip on his own sanity intentionally keeping the world further than arm’s distance. 

Then again, maybe she was completely wrong. Such men were impossible to read when it was Hannibal’s eyes that seemed mad and Will’s that seemed so painfully sane it made others view him as mad. If that were the case then Abigail had to admit she’d much rather be completely mad and believe herself to be completely sane. 

(A ‘Catch 22’ if she remembered correctly.)

(Not that having a name for it alleviated any of the tragedy of it. It was likely growing up was a process of hardening to such things, not maturing in what views you have of them.)

It didn’t matter. She couldn’t let it matter to her. 

When Hannibal’s sharp eyes moved to her, somehow showing in their casual manner that he had been aware she was watching him, all Abigail did was offer an embarrassed smile. “Morning Doctor Lecter.” She settled for scurrying off as though no more than an awkward squirrel quickly running back up a tree rather than admitting the other seemed greatly amused by having caught her out. 

“Morning Miss Hobbs.” He said simply, tone as perfectly composed as always as his gaze returning to studying what was going on around them. Matters such as students desperately trying to work him out were hardly more than inconveniences, amusing as they were it they were hardly worth much focusing on. 

As Abigail left though all he did was resist the urge to sigh to himself, the loss of control that would take too much for someone who focused on keeping himself so collected. Soon Hannibal resumed his walking, shoes soundless on the floor and lips barely curved as he kept his mind focused on as many things as he could do. Ignoring any and all staring it caused he offered a larger smile as he spotted the man sitting outside the principal’s office.

His own meeting was well over an hour away but seeing that he didn’t have a first lesson to teach so he might as well see who had the appointment before him. There was no real surprise though as Hannibal moved to take the seat opposite the other, letting the small space left between the two chairs keep them far enough that Will wouldn’t be uncomfortable. 

“Unless you have an appointment at the same time I do, I’m assuming you simply enjoy being early.” Will’s tone was as dry as he could make it, eyes remaining on his book rather than looking up and making sure the other was indeed who he thought he was. “That or I’ve missed something.”

“No, you’ve missed nothing.” Hannibal said just as plainly, lips still barely curved enough to cause more than the smallest line on the corner of his lip. “I have an appointment with Crawford after you do- to see if I’m getting the hang of things yet or if I’m ready to cook my students rather than try to teach them already.”

Will’s lips almost seemed to curve, tired eyes almost moving up from the book he was clearly not reading. “It would certainly make some of them more likely to listen. We have several students in common from what I’ve heard during my class.” He seemed bemused if anything. “You’ve had quite the effect on several of the students.”

“So I’m told.” So he had also noticed. It was easy enough to notice when a bunch of walking hormones and testosterone were looking at him as though he was one of the dishes he’d prepared. Which was a compliment seeing he was fully aware of quite how delicious what he prepared look- especially the pieces he’d had fun hunting himself. “As have you from the odd gaze following you around.”

“You mistaken disgust and lust, Doctor Lecter. Which is worrying from the psychological point of view and any other one I can think of.” Will didn’t try to explain what his reaction was at the more honest smile that briefly moved over the home economics teacher’s face. 

A pause where Hannibal tapped a steady rhythm on his knee, looking around again. “I’m sure that by the end of a one night stand they often may appear the same- it’s easy enough to mix up such basic emotions when you’re focusing on other things.”

“Not one for lasting relationships?” The reply was quick, easy, his curiosity a little more genuine than he may have liked. 

“Not one for eye contact?” Hannibal asked with barely a heartbeat between his and Will’s words, the observation so easy it almost felt like cheating to point out something so obvious. 

“It would require me to be more social than I am comfortable to be.” Perhaps his answer was a little too honest but Will truly was past the point of caring all that much. Most people already viewed him like some form of messed up train wreck, what was one more person in the group? “Plus eyes are distracting. They never see enough and it’s hard to concentrate when I’m focusing on all the wrong things like is that a burst vein.” 

His usual little rant about eyes didn’t seem worth it, instead he tried to simplify it, finally shutting the book he’d barely read a page of since Hannibal had arrived, thumb still slightly in the page to keep his place despite the fact he was never one to forget the page number or even line placement. 

Little details, for both men, were often worth a lot more than the things that everyone else noticed.

Speaking wasn’t something he usually really did, never really seeing the point in giving people even more to criticise him with. It was usually best to just let people forget he was there unless necessary but at the same time… “Shouldn’t you be more careful who you’re seen with? I thought you would know better.”

“Never judge a book by its cover and all that.” No other reply seemed fitting, Hannibal soon moved his gaze to the clock on the wall, guessing Will’s appointment was bound to start soon. “So, Mr Graham, what did you do to get sent to the principal’s office?”

“I came back to work.” Will seemed to consider it. “William, my name is William. Mr Graham makes me feel as though I should be setting you homework.” He leaned back, seeming at least a little more relaxed than he had been. “And what I meant was it seems rather odd for you to start off your career here with becoming acquaintances with the local nut.”

“William Graham. If I get to call you by your first name any chance I can convince you to use mine?” Watching Will he shook his own head. “I thought not. Though the offer is always on the table. Then again the local not jobs are usually more interesting than those of us who pretend we’re anywhere near sane.” 

Will’s amusement was finally almost obvious. “Is it normal for someone who works with teenagers to openly admit they’re insane?”

“I doubt anyone else would accept the job.” Hannibal replied with the same ease he had demonstrated before. “They’re not the easiest beings to ever walk the earth.”

“Clearly you’re in the correct career.”

“Clearly.”

The silence seemed a bit easier after that, Will reopening his book despite the fact there was nowhere near the amount of time he would need to torture himself into paying attention again. Hannibal, much liked him simply watched the odd passing person passing by. 

When the door to Hannibal’s right and Will’s left did finally open with a squeak it was Will who tiredly dragged himself up, giving a hollow half smile to the man standing there. “Jack.”

“Come on in Will.” Jack Crawford spoke simply, giving barely more than a curious glance to the blonde man who was there so very early. When Hannibal got up to leave he returned his attention to Will again, keeping the door open so they could both walk into the room, letting it shut behind him with an almost heavy click. 

-

-

-

“How are you adjusting to being back, then?” Jack’s tone was friendly and light in the empty office, eyes on the masses of paper decorating his desk. Recently things had been going wrong at home and as such the chaos in what had once been a space of calmness only reflected what was going on inside of his head. When Will moved to speak though he sighed, giving the other a look that clearly stated he wasn’t going to accept the answer. “Honestly. Don’t think of me as your boss for just a minute and try to trust me on this: I’m on your side here.”

On his side. What an odd concept. What was his side? There was no agenda, no attempts to manipulate, no mind games and there was never any pretending he was anything but who he was. Will himself truly had no idea what his side meant. The side that didn’t want him to be fired because his intelligence could still be utilised was a more accurate description.

The office, when looking past the papers was nice, spacious whilst never seeming like it was pretending to not be a work environment. The bookshelves held books, only few of them with spines bent enough to show they had indeed been read. A funny contrast to how Will’s books were, always read to the point of almost breaking into thousands of tiny pieces in his hands, so fragile that every single time he dared to pick them up it could easily be the last. And still, in their beautiful vulnerability they acted as a safety blanket, something for Will to hide in until he could almost forget the world he lived in. 

(The never quite right body he had to live in, never quite able of breaking free from.) 

If he had been a stranger to the office it was unlikely that Will would have admitted he noticed how certain books still contained the bookmarks Bella had made Jack so many years earlier, carefully dried flowers from different points in their lives holding strong in-between the pages as though they would shatter at the first too rough hands that could selfishly handle them. Little mementos from different points in their lives kept carefully and residing in the few tidy areas of the office. The only areas that even Jack’s growing chaos couldn’t cope with touching because the memories still meant the world to him, if not more. 

The windows let in more light than Will would have liked, resisting the urge to swallow more of his pills if only to be certain one of his migraines wasn’t going to sneak up on him with a knife in hand. But even if Jack claimed to be on his side somehow he doubted showing quite how many pills he tended to take per day was going to help him in the slightest. 

It was best to focus on what was going on the best he could for the time being before he could leave confident that he’d fooled one more person into thinking that he was any saner than he’d been at the worst moments of his breakdown. He was as broken as then, only he was finally back at the emotional point of pure hollowness where hiding it was easier. 

That was, after all, how adults survived day to day was it not? 

(Fake smiles and empty eyes, a few too many pills and drinks hidden in their bags and pockets. The art of hiding the damage was something he had never mastered and as such he had been branded as insane and broken. It was ironic if anything.)

“Will? Are you listening to me?” Jack tried again, resignation more on his tone than annoyance. He half wished to know how Hannibal had managed to get more out of Will in a couple of minutes than he had in practically years. He certainly couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to do anything but tug Will’s shoulders lower rather than higher. 

“Of course I am.” Will replied plainly, tone sounding more like an abandoned loft than anything anywhere near lively. “I’m fine to be back at work, I just had a momentary faltering but everything is now back in working order.”

The next pause lingered a little too long. “Working order? Will, you’re a human being not a machine.” No response but Jack really hadn’t dared hoping for one. “Are you finding it difficult being back? We both know how children can be.”

“They are no crueller than adults have been, I assure you.” He looked over the half dead flowers in the corner of the room, presuming that it had been a good while since anyone had taken the time to water them. Then again with Jack it had often been the idea that if you didn’t ask for what you wanted you wouldn’t get it unless he really did care for you. “I’m fine. I’m sleeping, taking my medication, eating…” Once in a while anyway. “I’m fine and I’m adjusting quickly, you know I’ve never had a problem with having to readjust quickly.”

Jack nodded, the movement slow and proving how careful he was being to not say anything that may have been triggering. “May I be honest with you, Will?”

“I wasn’t aware you were able of lying to those of us who know your pokerface.” There was no real humour in the words, the very essence of them so dry it was almost painful to remember he was still a living, feeling person caught in such a mind.”

“I want to help you. I want you to get out of this rut you’ve been pushed into but unless you start trying to climb out of it too you will never be able to reach those of us who want to help you.” To make himself seem less imposing Jack leaned back, giving all the more distance between them, never imposing despite the fact they were sitting on the two facing sofas in the corner of the room rather than at the desk. “I don’t like seeing you in such a state Will, you know that.”

Will didn’t like being in such a state but certain things had to be accepted as lost causes. No tears should be shed over spilt milk and all that. “I know that, Jack.” 

“Then you need to get some fight back in you.” To Will’s surprise Jack leaned forwards, gently adjusting his glasses so whilst there was never any direct contact there was enough to capture Will’s full attention for a few moments. “I am your friend, you aren’t alone in this.”

Friend. Will didn’t let himself linger on all the promises that were being set up only to be broken by one simple one syllable word. He wouldn’t let himself linger on it and that alone showed in his eyes. “Again, I know that. But on the matter of my teaching I am doing fine. I’m good at my job, you know that.”

“Simply because you can get away with putting up a screen and only presenting a prepared script. They don’t look past what they need to see and as such you and that brain of yours can be… screened.” Jack Crawford didn’t consider himself a clever man in the slightest yet he knew that when it came down to it he was good at reading people at their most innocent forms, their more humane moments. It wasn’t like Hannibal’s reading of the darkest wishes and the darkest desires and it wasn’t like Will’ pure empathy where anything relating to anger and pain would stand out until it matched his own fear and made him act… it was Jack who had always been capable to see what defences were being built, especially with those who didn’t know their own worth enough to try to build the defences so they would stay standing rather than half hoping that if they collapsed they would collapse onto them. 

It took Jack less than a moment to know Will was the latter, the type who built walls with architectural faults at the very bottom so whenever there was some damage it would be Will left a little more dead. 

(A parallel to Hannibal, he’d noticed, who made walls so nobody got in and nobody got out. Like a hunter’s trap to keep parts of himself away from daylight.)

“What does it matter? I get my job done and I am working at this. I am doing my best to ensure my standards don’t drop. That is, after all, why you employ me. I have record high passing rates in my classes.”

He wasn’t going to get through to Will, that much was clear. Jack offered a half sad smile as he got up from his seat, walking over to look over his books rather than putting too much attention on the young teacher. “Indeed it is.” And if he hadn’t been friends (did it count as friends if it was only one sided? It was always difficult to tell how the other felt about anything but ignoring the world) with Will he may have been worried it wasn’t worth the record. 

Sanity or great scores?

As long as Will wasn’t a danger to anyone it should have easily been the latter. Then again, perhaps he was forgetting quite how important working was for Will to keep a grip on anything. Giving him something to focus on could only be good in the long run. It could only be good to give Will something other than labels and scars a little too deep to ever fix. 

“You’re right.” Jack added as he tugged one of the more worn down books out of the bookshelf, smiling as he gently opened it to look over the long since dried white rose that separated two pages. “But that doesn’t make me wrong either.”

Forcing Will to stay was never going to work, he knew that well enough. It was always either on Will’s terms or on nobody’s. Closing the book with a sigh he gave Will a nod. “Leave if you want to. I’ll be here if you ever decide you wish to talk to me, but you know that anyway.”

He knew it but he never seemed to actually use the offer. 

Jack Crawford was a patient man, thoughtful of the few he ever did care for and kind to those he deemed worthy. If he offered help it was never out of pity but out of some sympathy that lingered in his eyes even when nobody was looking. Will certainly didn’t remember asking for Jack’s help yet he never really understood why the other did seem to care at times as though Will was more than a useful pawn. 

“Thank you.” If only his voice, hell even his eyes, could get his understanding across. Yet no matter how hard Will tried he could get nothing across other than an uncomfortable curve of his lips that didn’t last more than a second. Perhaps, if he’d been anyone else he would have been able to show some form of gratefulness back but no matter how hard he tried he wasn’t too certain how. 

Still, it seemed enough for Jack as he smiled and walked to the door, warmly letting Will out before inviting Hannibal in, not showing that anything other than a normal conversation had happened. 

“Will.”  
“Doctor Lecter.”

There was no real pause, Hannibal walking into Jack’s office with a polite smile and Will walking away as though he was certain of his destination. 

Like a crash waiting to happen the two narrowly avoided impact a little longer, barely having the time to notice each other before everything kept going as strongly as always. 

The world kept spinning and few knew any difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you for reading! I hope it was okay. Let me know what you guys thought? xx


	3. Rumour has it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana didn’t say anything for a few moments, eyes carefully looking over Hannibal as though she was desperate to say something she didn’t think she should. After a few moments though her self-control faltered, fingers tightly gripping her coffee mug. “Will isn’t whatever your first impression may have told you he is. He’d detached, yes, but he isn’t a bad person. He simply struggles to keep how he feels and how other people separate. Empathy is all well and good until it’s so strong you lose yourself under everyone else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for the great feedback guys. :) I hope this doesn't disappoint... This chapter wasn't originally planned but I found it necessary for things to progress. One of my favourite chapters is coming up soon though so hopefully the quality level will pop up ^-^

Simply because he was good at getting people to like him didn’t mean Hannibal enjoyed socialising in the slightest. People were predictable in all their little mannerisms, predictable in their attempts to be viewed as unique. But social norm required him to be social so there was really little choice there, Hannibal offering a friendly if detached smile as he entered the teacher’s area, intent on not staying any longer than strictly necessary. 

Teenagers or adults, certain things were always the same, certain things never changed. It was human nature to act a certain way and it was also human nature to be confused when others didn’t try to conform. With age people simply grew better at hiding it, more subtle in their approaches. 

Hannibal had to admit, at least to himself, that was probably why Will interested him so much. He was different from others even Hannibal had passed in his life, naïve whilst all too aware of how awful the world could be. A walking contradiction who was so self-aware it was almost painful to witness. So used to being isolated he had gotten to the point where he would just do it himself to save everyone the bother of putting such effort in. 

(Something Hannibal half wished more people would do. It would certainly make life a bit easier than it was most of the time it involved people.)

The coffee was foul enough that even if Hannibal hadn’t been the sort to always avidly bring his own things in he still would have. It was little wonder the area seemed more a space for socialising rather than anything else, the natter of voice aggravating in all of its uselessness. 

Most of the teachers were either misplaced or clearly failed at the career path they had originally aimed to follow. It took less than a glance at the sports teacher to know she came from a military family and really had missed her calling by chasing children rather than a fairer outlet for her anger. The drama teacher was a prime example of someone not living up to what they had always been certain they would achieve- likely having only ever been minor roles on stage when she was young and then even that had been messed up by her untimely pregnancy (which was now very likely the young woman Hannibal had seen her talking with a few days prior). 

Each person seemed to tell a different story, different versions of their own failures but still very much convincing themselves they wanted to be there. That they didn’t begrudge their students for still having a chance at doing well in their futures. Their chances to get away from the annoyingly little town. 

Not that it was the case with everyone there, he had to admit that much, yet his meeting with Jack after spending an hour trying to work Will out had left his mind in overdrive. Often it would simply be easier to let it slow down again by just watching others, yet then again often he wasn’t still wanting to find out information on something. It was rare for Hannibal to not know everything there was to know about someone with a single glance and as such this abnormality wasn’t one he was in a rush to get over. Curiosity was rare and he didn’t mind it all that much. Being able to make assumptions was also slightly more amusing, despite the fact he was likely to come up with something far more interesting than was actually going on. 

But then again, from what he had seen of Will there was still a chance answers would actually lead to more questions. It certainly didn’t seem as though Will was the type to open up to anyone enough for them to know more than the mirage he projected to them. 

Despite that, his attention was slowly drawn to the one person in the room who seemed to be silently considering him, glossed lips gently resting on the side of her mug and brown hair slightly curled as it fell over her shoulders. Miss Bloom had been one of the names that were best known when he’d been researching the school and she was one of the few he had seen who did not seem to hate every single moment of her working day. 

If anything she may have been one of the very few who may have actually enjoyed getting to work with new, fresh minds before adult life grabbed hold of them and started slowly tearing hopes away. 

Much like Hannibal, she was one of the very few who seemed to still put much attention into her appearance other than on the most basic superficial level. Her knee length dress a pale green and from what he could tell there was very little harshness on her features and the kindness truly did seem genuine. 

He’d seen her once or twice before, one of those times being when he had seen her talking to Will the day he’d returned to work. She had at that time simply stood out because she was one of the very few who had seemed openly happy to see him back at work, as though she understood how important working was for him. As though she understood that leaving him at home hoping he’d fix himself up was never going to do anything but give him more time to self-destruct. 

But as he took her features in properly he realised he did indeed recognise her, very possibly from one of his cooking seminars previous to deciding to take a more relaxing job. Teaching cooking, at least, gave him a great deal of amusement and plenty of time to work on his own recipes to see what would work.

(Which was not the most useful thing seeing how most of his class couldn’t even boil an egg never mind some of the things he asked them to do- things most adults wouldn’t be able to prepare.)

(That was their fault, not his.)

“Doctor Lecter, I’m Alana Bloom.” Alana greeted with a smile once she finally did reach him, offering a slender hand for him to shake. When he did she soon pulled it back. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to come introduce myself before now, with taking over one of my colleague’s lessons whilst he was on leave as well as overseeing the science department I’ve barely had two moments free.”

The blonde man nodded, making his expression as neutral as he could without seeming impolite. “I’m guessing William’s lessons?” How she faltered so clearly certainly said a lot. “Mr Graham if you rather, though I have been given permission to call him his first name by him. Something regarding him feeling as though he should be setting work whenever he is referred to by his surname.”

The brunette nodded, surprised despite it was common knowledge Will didn’t like being called by his surname unless he hated the other individual or if he taught them. But it was still surprising that the newer teacher had already been given that information- it had taken her weeks to get more than single syllable words out of Will and that had been before all the recent drama had happened. 

“Yes, Will uses that little speech for anyone that asks why.” Alana nodded as if trying to hide the confusion still decorating her features. “I have to admit he usually waits a little longer to give it out though.” Long enough to work out if he didn’t hate the other person more than average anyway. 

Hannibal’s laugh was made heavier by his accent, the sound brief in the air between them. “Well then, I must be one of the special ones. Though I have only met him twice so far so he may still change his mind as to if I am deserving of using his first name. He seemed rather against returning the favour.”

Disguising her pondering over the information Alana smiled as she indicated to a table, leading Hannibal to it so their conversation could continue in a more relaxed manner. The noise of her heels clicking on the floor was barely more than a faint noise under the continuing masses of noise from around them, unnoticed to almost everyone. When he sat into the uncomfortable wooden chair Hannibal let the silence between them continue, wondering what she would have to say on the matter at hand or if she was going to steer off the William-related conversation they seemed to be floating towards. 

Alana didn’t say anything for a few moments, eyes carefully looking over Hannibal as though she was desperate to say something she didn’t think she should. After a few moments though her self-control faltered, fingers tightly gripping her coffee mug. “Will isn’t whatever your first impression may have told you he is. He’d detached, yes, but he isn’t a bad person. He simply struggles to keep how he feels and how other people separate. Empathy is all well and good until it’s so strong you lose yourself under everyone else.” 

More information than Hannibal had predicted would be given in so few breaths and he seemed to blink at her, processing over what she’d just said. 

“You care for him.” Not the hardest observation to make but it was still an observation that seemed terribly relevant. “I wasn’t aware he had anyone in his life.”

“Because he doesn’t.” No bitterness, no anger, simply acceptance laced the words with a small dosage of sadness. As though it was just a fact that did and always had come hands in hands with knowing Will. “There’s little I could tell you even if I wanted to, most of it that you should pick up from him if he ever lets you close enough to do so. You learning too much from others would more likely make him distance himself than help him open up further.”

Well, for him to close up that would require him knowing Hannibal had enquired about him. “I understand.” Which, he did. “You are assuming that I plan to try to work him out.”

It was Alana’s turn to chuckle. “You’ve spoken to him twice and have tried to get him to use your first name. It’s more than almost anyone else in here has attempted to do and you’re the only one who met him after recent events.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong, but you certainly seemed curious when I first mentioned him.”

She was cleverer than he may have given her credit for- that was a pleasant surprise. At least there was another person that could make half interesting conversation. She was also very correct. Hannibal wasn’t one to back out of a challenge, especially if it interested him as much as Will did. His lips half curved. “He’s interesting, I’ll give him that much. It would be a lie to say I don’t wish to know more about him but I assure you I’ll take my time with it.” Like skinning the carcass of his latest hunt he doubted his hands would ever shake enough to make any damage to what he was revealing to the human eye unless he actually wanted to. 

A curt nod, Alana sipping her drink again as she tried to study for a few moments longer. When she rested the mug onto the table again she seemed fully ready to ask her next question. “You don’t know, do you? The full extent of what happened for him to take the time off.”

“I have to confess I do not.” It was a test, he could see it in how sharp her eyes had suddenly become. He could see it in the stiffening of her posture. “But I’m certain William will tell me when he wishes. Any gossip I have and will hear is simply that. Gossip. Just because rumour has it it doesn’t mean it is correct. Do you agree, Miss Bloom?”

Her fingers paused on the side of the mug, lips curving into a clearly present smile. “I agree, Doctor Lecter.” 

That was, in Hannibal’s eyes, the closest to approval he needed to know that he was playing his cards right. 

-

-

-

William couldn’t deny he was genuinely surprised when Hannibal turned up in his classroom at late lunch again, the man not saying anything until he was leaning against Will’s desk again. 

“You’ve already put the books in alphabetical order and rearranged the desks. What are you doing today?” The question was casual despite how odd Hannibal’s presence was, the man’s eyes following Will as he opened the lid of his lunchbox, only pausing to rest it on the desk and to pick up the little silver fork. 

“I’m sorting through the folders containing extra resources. Some of the studies are no longer valid and others have new arguments against them that will be useful to know.” There were few students who ever seemed to take advantage of the files at the back but it was still something to do. “Is this room mislabelled or something?” He glanced over his shoulder at Hannibal’s actions, not seeming as annoyed as he would have been if it had been anyone else. 

“Not unless this isn’t Mr Graham’s Psychology rom.” With permanent marker drawings on different spots of the door from whatever bored student had nothing better to do than that. Hannibal took a few moments to chew his food, attention not seeming to leave the other for long. 

“There are plenty of more pleasant areas to eat in if you haven’t explored the school past your area and mine.” Will’s movements were well coordinated as he tugged down one of the files, frowning at something inside of it as he waited for a reply. It seemed as though Hannibal must be as mad as he himself was, seeking him out instead of avoiding him as everyone else seemed to. 

Something that made very little sense to Will and yet it wasn’t something he could bring himself to dislike. Company was something rare and for once it didn’t feel too forced when he did have to endure it. 

Hannibal paused. “Are there? I’ve only discovered here, my classroom and the necessary path between. I considered exploring further but are strange miniature people wondering about.” When Will let out a muffled noise of amusement Hannibal’s light smile grew slightly. “What about you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of here without it being a matter of life, death or Crawford’s orders.”

Will turned to look over the other, gaze resting on Hannibal’s shoulder so he could see enough of his face without ever having to make eye contact. “I haven’t been back long so I have a lot to get on with. Trust me when I say that the moment I run out of even slightly viable things I should be doing I’ll come up with some more.” 

Funny, Hannibal almost felt genuinely at ease around the younger man- or in the very least far more than he usually did around others. His usual mask didn’t seem fitting because Will wasn’t looking at all the points everyone else would be. He wasn’t looking at eyes to give away clues and he wasn’t looking with the same eyes others always seemed to be looking with. 

It was refreshing. 

“I doubt that makes having a social life easy. But then again, you don’t seem the type who socialises much.” Hannibal didn’t rush his eating, attention slipping back to Will’s composure. For someone labelled as insane there was a great deal of control to his mannerisms, everything well timed to ensure what he needed to do lasted until he had something more important to do. Tidying the room was more of simply finding something to do than having to linger in the suffocating empty moments that would be there if he had to focus fully on reality. 

Hannibal could relate to that more than he would have wished, yet unlike Will it seemed to be a very different type of madness he was running from. His madness was the type that made him know better than letting people close to him. Will though was trying to protect himself as much as he was others. 

There was still plenty to work out yet already it was hard to imagine being disappointed by the challenge Will posed. Instead, if anything, Hannibal was starting to think his hopes hadn’t been high enough to begin with. Will was a riddle that only came with an instruction manual written in varying languages also riddled beyond much recognition. 

And there was no denying that his interest was at the level it should be on for having barely met the other but then again Hannibal never claimed to be normal with his interests. He simply let other people presume and then didn’t correct them. 

Chewing on his food Hannibal remained perfectly silent, not needing to actually break the silence to watch what was being shown without needing to trigger anything yet. Not that it seemed like it would take much effort to trigger a reaction out of Will but he might be wrong. Unlikely, yes, but it was still a mild possibility. 

His eyes paused on the fur decorating Will’s trouser legs, making it seem as though he had been in a battle with several furry creatures before making it to work that morning. Seeing how many of the students and teachers had joked about him collecting dogs Hannibal half wanted to ask how one person could end up with so many. He himself had never been one for animals, finding that they brought a level of chaos into his life that he couldn’t cope with. 

Everything had a place, every mark and every bloodstain to be cleaned with ease and swiftly. The last thing he wanted was having to worry about keeping his suits clean of fur. Yet with someone like Will he could see what the attraction would be- the attraction of having someone who maintained all the promises people always broke.

“I’ve been told you have a… collection of dogs.” Hannibal started off simply enough, conversation no more than normal curiosity. “Mongrels I’m guessing?”

Even a blind man would have been able to see how William relaxed at the mention of his dogs, as though simply talking of his family. 

(Though it was likely enough that if Hannibal ever was to mention Will’s family the other would run much further than a mile.)

“Most of them are. I don’t over look into what they are.” Will paused, slipping the file back into its place. “I found most of them abandoned at different times so they needed a lot of patience.” They had needed someone to someone to be there for them and slowly they had learnt to accept it. His tone was half fond. “They also don’t overly appreciate me working late but there’s little I can do about that until I’m done filling in all the paperwork I missed.” 

“Well, they must miss you. I’m told animals are loyal though I’ve not had the pleasure of having a pet for many years.” He put the lid back onto the lunchbox with a distracted nod. “I’m not one for mess.” 

Will shot Hannibal another glance before shrugging, “Sometimes it’s worth the effort despite what others may think. Though do remind me never to let you anywhere near my home if mess frightens you. It would probably leave you in need of some severe therapy to get you over the inflicted trauma.” 

Well, at least it didn’t sound as though the idea of Hannibal vising terrified Will. If anything it sounded as though it was just a thing that may happen. Rather than lingering on that Hannibal simply stopped himself from asking if Will was still talking about the dogs being worth the effort despite what their old owners had thought or if he’d moved onto talking about himself. 

Pointing that out though would have crossed a line even Hannibal hadn’t investigated yet. 

“Maybe someday I’ll try the whole pet thing again.” Unlikely but it was still something that seemed to almost draw a slight smile out Will’s otherwise thinly pressed lips. “And I’ll have to pass on the therapist for the time being. That’s something for another day when I’m less drowned in work.”

Will made another gentle noise that could be interpreted as a chuckle, looking away again with some form of resignation. Looking at the time Hannibal stood up again, “Don’t work too late today, I’m certain your dogs would be grateful if you made it back at a sane hour.” 

A nod from Will before he heard Hannibal leaving, his usual steady steps showing absolutely no hint of hesitation. Only once the other was gone did he pause again to wonder what was going on. 

In the end he didn’t keep his promise of going home at a sane hour and that was the mistake that led to a lot more of trouble. 

-

-

-

The red was curved on the black, dim in the darkness of the night and almost unreadable if it had not been for the odd streetlight still there. Messy in the curves used to form words and long since dried where the odd line had dripped down slightly, much of it slipping into the cracks of the broken window’s glass. What red was slipping through the cracks was completely dry, already at such awkward angles that cleaning it was going to be a nightmare. 

And that was before having to consider how much actually having the window fixed was going to cost. 

The car park only had another two cars in the area and both had been there for a good while, neither touched by the red paint seeming to cover the old black car parked to the far left. In fact, there wasn’t a single drop on them whilst the large words painted onto the black one had been done intentionally so there was absolutely no way to ignore them. 

At the sight of the car though Will’s stomach seemed to sink, the overwhelming need to just weep seeming to rise as he slowly stepped closer. It only got worse when he brushed his fingers over the dry words, wishing that just for once things could have been easy. But there was no such luck.

Swallowing away any burst of emotion Will pulled his shaking hands back to his side as he stepped back again, wide and hollowing eyes focusing on what it actually said despite how his better judgement told him not to. There was no way to pretend it wasn’t there when it was literally all he could see, when it was going to be nothing but a struggle to wash the words he had been branded with away.

He had been branded with it and as such the two words suddenly seemed engraved into his car, red splatters like the blood on Lady Macbeth’s hands only this one was there for the entire world to see.

Sanity, it seemed, made people all the crueller to those who were not viewed as sane as they were. It gave no good perspective and it helped nobody. 

All sanity seemed to do was point out the differences in others before extending a blunt axe for the world to start hacking away as they so pleased, damning the consequences actions could have. 

If it had not been for the pure resigned horror moving through his veins it would have been easy to notice the slight sting in his eyes and the sound of steps behind him. 

Yet the horror was there, deafening him with the sound of his own heart beat and causing his usually fairly steady hands to shake. 

The horror was there because no matter what was going on, he couldn’t deny the truth in the words. 

 

**Freak Show.**

 

“William?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next few updates will be slower as I have college but they will still be fairly regular just not daily. I also have a few more oneshots coming up simply because :P


	4. Wash this madness away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The red already formed a river like mass on the ground as Will moved the soaked and quickly staining sponge over the still brutally clear ‘Freak’, eyes briefly flickering to where Hannibal had moved near his right, precise hands removing the other half with much more ease than he was finding. Both of their hands though were stained a deep red, seeping under their nails as though by cleaning the words away they were committing some form of atrocity. As though they were hiding something that should be known by everyone. And yet as Will struggled further to make the words away he still wished he could wash his madness away like he was washing the paint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely feedback again <3 sorry about the delay I had a bunch of exams :) But I am back to continue this AU madness. I hope you all will enjoy.

There was nothing but the sound of Will’s breathing when Hannibal returned, having left not long after finding William frozen staring at the piece of brutal ‘art’ that had been placed upon the side of his car in a blood like shade of red which managed to cause his gut to twist as though trying to knot itself into a straightjacket. Something that Hannibal sincerely doubted was an accident seeing quite how precisely the red stood out in the otherwise silent nothingness the night had to offer.

Hannibal’s voice had been soft and had come as a surprise from behind Will, colder than it had been in their past conversations yet clearly laced in what may have been surprise. At any other time Will would have turned to look at the new arrival on the scene, he may have questioned why another teacher was there as late as he was… and yet he didn’t even have the energy to look away from the horribly true words, standing out in the darkness and making it feel as though all the steps he’d tried to take to leave the past where it belonged had been smashed away.

He flinched when he felt the hand that came to rest upon his arm, eyes finally leaving what had been done to his car to look at Doctor Lecter, gaze flickering over his face whilst always remaining careful not to make eye contact. Eyes were problematic, always showing him far too much without ever showing him enough. Always more than anyone else would ever wish to know but not enough to give him any piece that he knew the full truth. In many senses it could be described as a middle ground formed of quicksand.

The older teacher had not said anything but his name when he’d stumbled across the scene, simply pausing to take in what had happened before his faltering had been corrected, placing his bag down near William’s car and telling him he would be straight back- a clear strain lacing his words rather than just the surprise that had come when seeing the car. A strain that had been caused by watching Will’s face manifest how difficult it was to look away, how difficult it was to deal with the sudden violent new pressure on his mind. Hannibal had reacted barely moments before uttering the words, slipping back in the darkness as though having belonged in it so long that it was a part of him.

(At the ridiculous thought Will let out a laugh, surprising himself by how alike to a sob it sounded when it had left his lips fully. He himself wasn’t all that certain what it was meant to be but he was past caring.)

(If he allowed himself to feel anything he feared he would shatter there and then like a faulty children’s toy, a train set where the wheels where unhinged and threatening to fall off if they were made to move anymore. Never having been made to last.)

It felt as though the very silence was suffocating him, sneaking up on him and wrapping fingers around his neck until there was nothing left in him but a dangerous hollowness. A hollowness he had fallen into before and that he knew falling into again would be very, very bad. It had been difficult enough to get out of it the first time but he doubted he could pull such a stunt off a second time.

Last time he’d brought a lot of the darkness back with him, tainting and staining him like his car was if not far worse.

Whoever had left the graffiti certainly wasn’t wrong in the insult- Will’s worse losses of control had certainly demonstrated to the world how broken one man could be.  

Just thinking of the events though caused a shiver to run through him, jumping more than may have been normal even for him when Hannibal’s fingers rested on his arm- light and yet imposing at the same time. Not needing to be forceful to be grounding, Will’s eyes snapping to the hand as though confused at the contact. New or not, surely Hannibal knew enough about Will from rumour to know to avoid him.

Blue eyes moved from the hand to what Hannibal had brought back with him, two red buckets filled with water, each containing a sponge already on the verge of sinking at the weight it had absorbed. It took a moment for him to recognise them as the buckets used at charity events, often being the ones for the water for any offered car washes.

It made sense for Hannibal to bring him what he would need to clean the mess up, yet Will frowned when he finally registered the fact there were two sponges. Why would it ever take two of them to clean up what had been done?

“I thought you could do with a hand.” Hannibal shrugged as though it was the simplest thing in the world, taking a few moment to slip his jacket (probably worth more than Will’s yearly salary) off and onto the bag he’d put on the floor before getting the buckets. Not seeming to wait for a response he slowly folded his sleeved up, slipping his cufflinks (shaped, oddly enough, as what seemed like kitchen knives) into his pocket before slipping past William.

Nothing about the situation made sense, nothing of the situation fitting together as Will tried desperately to blink himself out of the stunned stupor he was finding himself trapped inside of.

“You really don’t need to do that, I… I appreciate it but I can do it. It’s hardly the first time someone’s taken out their dislike to how I am on my car.” Still, he made no move to look at how Hannibal walked to furthest end of the words with one of the buckets, not seeming to take any real notice. “I’m sure you have to get home or at least have better things to do than this.”

The borderline annoyed amusement that flickered across Hannibal’s features almost confused him as much as the other man willingly staying to aid him for no apparent reason. “I am fully aware you can deal with this alone.” He paused, looking over Will with well masked emotions. “That does not, however, constitute a reason as to why you should have to deal with it alone.” A pause no longer than a heartbeat. “Are you going to join me at any time?”

The fact that Hannibal almost sounded as though he was going to chuckle made Will feel twelve years old, trying to impress a teacher as he lifted his own bucket, the metal handles digging into his skin, gravity pulling a weight that felt double what it actually was down. The metal digging into his skin like a grave robber trying to find something worth taking- as though trying to find evidence that he still had something normal about him.

At least the blood in his veins had to be alike the one of others, at least that couldn’t betray him too. Could it?

It was a ridiculous question formed mostly from the cruel remarks and presumptions of others yet he couldn’t even deny he was uncertain as to what ran through his veins. Life has never been fair to those who are different and we are, in the end, no more civilised than savages stranded at sea when it comes to trying to step up against the crowds when we see someone being cornered and broken simply for not fitting in. Those who do stand-up are soon smashed down as though some self-righteous deity has better ideas as to who deserves to win.

In all our years of growth and claims that we are better than how we once were it often seems as though the only thing that has changed is on what scale we are able to scream how civilised and equal we are. As though the red that marks our hands is simply paint that will soon be only a stain on our memories.

Will swallowed the bitter taste of bile again as he made himself kneel by the car, shaking fingers grasping the sponge so roughly a great deal of the water left it when it was still in the bucket. He had had to clean his car of such things before, he had in the past had to try to hide the evidence of the truth from the eyes of others yet never before had he found himself kneeling near someone else who was willingly aiding him for absolutely no apparent reason. To someone who had been left as vulnerable and exposed as Will had he couldn’t understand why anyone would stay and aid him much more than he couldn’t understand why someone could do such a thing. The red words and the motives behind them made more sense than the perfectly composed man beside him, dark eyes focused on his work with the precision of a surgeon or artist, careful not to miss anything as he applied exactly the right pressure at the right moment in the right spot…

When Will was able to focus on reality fully again there was little difference, what had changed only marked by how the darkness was suddenly stained with all the more red.

The red already formed a river like mass on the ground as Will moved the soaked and quickly staining sponge over the still brutally clear ‘Freak’, eyes briefly flickering to where Hannibal had moved near his right, precise hands removing the other half with much more ease than he was finding. Both of their hands though were stained a deep red, seeping under their nails as though by cleaning the words away they were committing some form of atrocity. As though they were hiding something that should be known by everyone. And yet as Will struggled further to make the words away he still wished he could wash his madness away like he was washing the paint.

For Will, the worst thing about his ‘madness’ may simply have been that he felt as though he could never escape it. As though there was never going to be any way to cleanse himself of it no matter how hard he tried to scrub at his skin until it was raw. He could wash until his very skin had peeled away leaving nothing but his very bones and even then Will could not imagine himself as clean. Pitiful, really, how he had allowed himself to lose any hope he had once had but even he could not blame himself for a single minute. With so many people continuously telling him that he was worthless- less than everyone else and only useful because he was good at his job- it was certainly difficult to not believe it.

With so many people telling him it was getting hard to differentiate their views of him and his own. Everything seemed as ruined as the sponge he was holding so viciously, nails digging into it until the material had fully seemed under his nails giving even them a coating of the colour he had learnt to hate so much. Perhaps it was too much to ask that just for once those who left such messages for him would be more creative in their colour choices. Asking for a change to blue or green would at least mean his nightmares would have more colour options when haunting him into more sleepless nights.

“Whatever you are thinking of yourself, please do not.” Hannibal’s almost kind tone broke through the silence as if it was easy to slip in and out of something so heavy, not having glanced away from cleaning the car yet still knowing all he had to as to how the other was taking it. “Just because someone or a collective of people decide that you are not alike them does not make you inferior. It simply makes you a target for hatred you do not deserve.”

Hannibal could certainly understand that- it wasn’t as though a man of his skills and calibre moved to the area to take such a mundane job because he wanted to spice up his life. He clearly had the money to not need to work and yet his resume kept growing as he skipped between his skillsets to find different bits and pieces as to what he could do to fill his time.

Some rumours said he was on the run from someone.

Others simply said that he was on the run from the loneliness a mind such of his was bound to attract. It wasn’t as though anyone could see anything worth anything but money in his life.

(It was the rumours as to the second one that usually caused Hannibal to falter in his otherwise flawless sets of movements.)

(It was usually considering them that made the little colour on his face move away as though haunted by a ghost formed of memories, refusing to let him rest or get off his path until he had found whatever he sought with such a vivid, colourful passion.)

Nobody knew for certain and had it been simply for Hannibal’s determination they never would have. But as for everything there will always be an exception to a rule.

Had it been anyone else it was likely Hannibal would have walked away or simply offered a ride home, leaving the other to deal with the mess left behind. But it had been William Graham, the man he could not help but find a rare curiosity spiking for despite his knowledge to what had happened not all that long before he had joined the school to teach.

Had it been anyone else Hannibal’s hands would have been as clean as they usually were to the bare eye, no anger or interest daring to make itself known. Yet with Will it was difficult to not get involved, all too aware he would never accept a ride home. He would never be able to leave such a mark behind him because such a man had long since learnt to not leave such evidence of his problems behind.

He had to have had seeing he still had his job.

So the next best thing Hannibal could do was simply to aid him without having to interfere with how Will’s mind was working. By helping him clean up what others had done it would in the very least help him to get William to see him as someone genuinely getting to know him.

“With so many people agreeing on one fact it undoubtedly seems likely that it is true.” Will’s tone was far drier than intended, the man still struggling to keep it even enough he could hide in the hollowness rather than the light of day emotions could bring. Usually, when dealing with things like that alone, he could allow himself room to breakdown, to let something slip past his defences as he tried to fix things again. With Hannibal there he was uncertain how to act. “Doctor Lector, I still do not understand why you stayed.”

Eyes refusing to make eye contact or so much as glance at Hannibal he tried to focus on viciously trying to wipe away the red of the ‘F’.

“Many people have agreed over atrocities too but that does not mean they were correct.” An easy disagreement, Hannibal looking back at the barely visible words he had taken on, intentionally leaving ‘freak’ for Will to deal with. Intentionally taking on the one that described his life almost perfectly. “Seeing what subject you teach I have no doubt you’ll agree with me when I say the dominant ideology or general consensus of a group does not automatically become correct when in comparison to what morals variable by individual seem correct.”

At the lack of a reply Hannibal dared a glance at Will, knowing that had he himself been someone else his heart would have sank at how defeated the man looked. Like a dog beaten one too many times or an old racehorse with a broken leg.

There was never any chance of a happy ending in sight for such beings.

“You don’t know much of what happened to make all this shit happen, do you?” Will asked, voice barely above a whisper as his hand paused, sponge resting still against the car door and red lines dripping down from it as though coming from a wound that needed severe stitches. “At first I thought you were just being polite in not mentioning it but you really don’t know.”

“I do not.” Hannibal seemed to have no problem with admitting it, his own eyes remaining firmly on the psychology teacher. “I do not listen to gossip and rumours because they tend to be as true as the ones who started them. I do however trust my own judgement when it comes to people I wish to get to know.”

Will’s laugh was small and dry, eyes glistening slightly as though he could feel nothing but guilt that he had been able to feel something other than self-loathing even if the amusement was caused by only bitterness. “And what do your instincts tell you about me?”

To his credit Hannibal did not falter, he did not pause to phrase things and he did not show any of the usual clues that decorated people’s half-hearted lies.

“I see a very sad, lonely individual who’s been alienated because of factors beyond his control.” There was no need to dance around the matter because what Will needed was the truth, not people treating him as though he was fragile. “I do not require all the information to see that much, however I can see that what you need isn’t to be treated like Jack’s special tea cup only to be used on special occasions.”

Will’s smile was a hollow thing. “I feel far more like an old mug than special china.”

The silence that returned was nowhere near as bad as it had been previously, heavy but not to the point of unpleasantness. There simply seemed to be nothing to say, neither wanting to break what silent resolution of almost friendliness if not acceptance to the other’s presence, Hannibal’s honesty at least getting the other to no longer distrust him as completely as he had only minutes earlier.

The rest of the red washed away with surprising ease, spilling away with each stroke from the suddenly effective sponge, leaving only the faintest trace of what they had spent so long trying to clan away. Despite that though Will still could not move, mind clamping his legs so there was no way to push himself up as he let the sponge fall into the bucket of water, water having long since started matching the deep red of the bucket. It almost looked like what Will had seen the few times his father had taken him hunting.

“Would you like a ride home or are you feeling in appropriate condition to drive?” Hannibal offered as he finished getting up, hands smoothing out the few creases caused by staying in such a position for so long, in barely the blink of an eye becoming immaculate again and stepping closer to offer a hand to aid Will up. Not too close that he could not avoid him though, Hannibal clearly having worked out the boundaries with far more ease than anyone else Will had met.

Was he in the right state to drive? In all honesty even Will didn’t know.

He wanted to say yes simply out of his pride, wishing to admit to no weakness to someone he was fairly certain he couldn’t have understood less. His hands were shaking as he gave a glance at the offered hand, accepting the aid yet gripping the material of Hannibal’s sleeve rather than making any actual contact.

When he was up he let go as if scolded and Hannibal had the audacity to seem as though he understood, as though he took no offence at Will’s unusual manner and as though he simply found him interesting despite of it… not because of it.

Swallowing down his hesitance and  annoyingly insistent pride he tried to hide how his hands were still shaking by curling his fingers into fists, nails digging into his skin with the attempt to ground himself. To focus on the bursts of pain rather than focusing on any of the other emotions that were running though him like the worst poison known to man.

Sometimes Will could only compare himself to a car crash, everything that had once been good about him turning into shards of glass, all flying at him before he had a chance to react. Slicing and dicing until the shocked gasp impact caused would be replaced by a hopeless, aimless plead that seemed formed by no real sentiment but the desperation of human nature to live even if there was nothing left to live for.

He was a car crash running in slow motion whilst the other cars involved swerved and tried to avoid the burst of flames certain to come when he hit the car that had been going to hit him from the start with a soundless prayer to a God he didn’t believe in on his lips.

Life, is a tragedy even to those who do not realise it.

It is all the more tragic for the fool who realised it though.

“I’m fine.” Will’s left hand dug out his bottle of pills from his jacket, shaking all the more as unsteady fingers  tried to open the plastic lid, trying to get to the one thing that should be able to calm him down enough to think. When it wouldn’t open he swore to himself, getting to the point where he was tempted to just walk home.

Letting Hannibal take the small bottle from him he froze, almost having forgotten that he wasn’t left simply in his own company as usual. Hannibal said nothing though, opening the bottle before handing it back over. “I’ll give you a ride home if you wish- it’s too late to walk and I somewhat doubt you should be walking it after what happened.” It was a small town, he had a basic idea where Will lived. Not specific enough to not need directions but he knew it was a doable distance.

Will’s pause made it clear he was desperately searching for a reason to say no, a reason that made sense enough that he would be willing to refuse to do the most obviously correct decision that was available to him. His eyes traced over the other’s face as though desperately searching for a reply as to why the other was going out of his way for him, as to why anyone was acting of every little thing that had and would happen within his life.

As long as nobody questioned what had happened Will didn’t mind, avoiding any and all questions to linger and see more of the truth as he slipped deeper and deeper in sleep rather than waking from the all too clear grips of sanity. Not wanting people to know the truth and not wanting people to blame him for the sudden change in events that was all too obvious.

People had fallen and burnt for much less that Will was as he looked over the perfectly composed man, a nod causing curls to fall onto his forehead like a cascade, sticking to it yet neither close enough or far enough away from it.

He told himself, that just for once, accepting a ride meant nothing- allowing himself to take interest in someone outside his usual ‘bubble’ who was not his usual last moment choice.

(It was only much later that night when he was a hyperventilating ball of pain in the corner of his bedroom that Will final wondered what there was to gain by helping him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you guys thought, you are after all, the ones that matter. Next chapter should be fairly soon as I only have one oneshot coming up (and very possibly a second chapter of 'Sweet Child of Mine' because the reviewers are bossy ^-^)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you don't horribly regret letting me write this :P A new chapter will be up over the next few days. Let me know what you guys thought? xx


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